


180 days

by smtowndream



Series: the blessed unrest [1]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Inspired by Hades and Persephone (Hellenistic Religion & Lore), M/M, Reverse Hades!Persephone
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-24
Updated: 2019-03-24
Packaged: 2019-11-26 09:12:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18178706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smtowndream/pseuds/smtowndream
Summary: newly ascended god of the spring, na jaemin, had been born with the warmth of the sun enveloping him. he likes to think that's why he enjoyed the more luminous things in life. but when huang renjun, ruler of the underworld (in training), shows his amazingly beautiful face above ground, na jaemin thinks that for the lord of thedarkness, he might just be able to make an exception. that is, if jaemin can keep renjun in the sunshine first.(or the reverse!hades/persephone plot where jaemin contemplates using spring magic to keep renjun above ground for 180 days of the year)





	180 days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “They thought that letting you die would be a waste of a pure heart.” explained the messenger who lingered around the foot of Jaemin’s bed. By the way he stood upright with his faded green cloak wrapped around his body, he simply commanded a vigorous ambiance. His eyes were a brilliant hazel, a sort of calmness in the seas of his intent gaze. He was beautiful in the most serene of ways and Jaemin felt only tranquility with this man’s presence. As expected of a messenger of the gods, Jaemin figures this man was more likely than not a deity as well. 
> 
> “This is a one time offer, Na Jaemin. If you choose to accept you will live a prosperous life of immortality in a semi godly flesh.” He would be a deity. “You‘d become a son of the spring, bringing life to the crops and lush green to the meadows. A symbol of the decaying of the winter and the rebirth and renewal of the lands in the spring. An immortal youth, one of the first of your kind.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> omg this is my most favorite work in progress that I’ve possibly ever written!! I knew I HAD to publish it on the first day of Spring. I know I have so many works to update but I just HAD to!!! post this!!!! don’t hate me too much <3 I’d love to know what you all think, please tell me since I’ve had this first chapter in the works for awhile

There once was a boy born under the blazing heat of the saffron sun. Every inch of him is amiable, warmth coursing through his veins like second nature. Some say that it was because of the August month he was born under, respected and impressive, that he was always meant to be a god. Either way, he was dearly beloved from the rural countryside beside his birth town to the bustling mecca where he grew up generously.

However where there was Na Jaemin, there was a conundrum. As the dazzling splendor of the summer sun simmered at the denouement of every August, so did Jaemin’s composition. It was baffling to every doctor who visited the Na household hoping that they might be the one to solve the puzzling complication that was the disintegration of Na Jaemin.

His illness would eventually be chalked up to the changing of seasons, when autumn’s cape sheathed summer’s scorch it was just enough to cause Jaemin’s heart to deplete. Various doctors nor Jaemin’s family could be sure how or why this happened, it was an unsolvable puzzle. All that was certain then was that Jaemin would not live past his eighteenth birthday, and it would be a miracle if he lived a week more.

“It’s because you were born of warmth that the light has encompassed you.” His mother would murmur against his forehead on the days when the pain was especially excruciating. She would coddle her only child, entrapping her arms like a cage around him in comfort as crystalline tears spilled from his eyes.

* * *

It is on his eighteenth birthday, the day that is  _supposed_ to mark his death, where Jaemin is given the chance for renewal. To shed the flesh that had only riddled him with illness and agony. The gods above had been observing Na Jaemin since he completed his first teetering steps and smiled his genuine wholehearted smiles. Only certain beings could contain the amount of sincerity that Jaemin possessed, and they admired that.

“They thought that letting you die would be a waste of a pure heart.” explains the messenger who lingered around the foot of Jaemin’s bed. By the way he stands upright with his faded green cloak wrapped around his body, he simply commanded a vigorous ambiance. His eyes are a brilliant hazel, a sort of calmness in the seas of his intent gaze. He is beautiful in the most serene of ways and Jaemin felt only tranquility with this man’s presence. As expected of a messenger of the gods, Jaemin figures this man was more likely than not a deity as well.

“This is a one time offer, Na Jaemin. If you choose to accept you will live a prosperous life of immortality in a semi godly flesh.” He would be a deity. “You‘d become a son of the spring, bringing life to the crops and lush green to the meadows. A symbol of the decaying of the winter and the rebirth and renewal of the lands in the spring. An immortal youth, one of the first of your kind.”

It should not have taken Jaemin too long to make a decision. Anyone who has felt the raw effects of dying first hand at such a young age like Jaemin has, the slow decaying of the heart and mind, would have leaped at this once in a time opportunity.

The curtain on Na Jaemin’s life was on the cusp of being drawn prematurely, but he was being given the offer of forever. He would be able to become acquainted with a life where he bore no pain, where the setting of the sun did not send a ruinously shattering sensation rippling through him. He would know suffering no longer.

What made Jaemin consider this with great caution was how this choice would affect his life. While this extension of the gods’ gratitude was the most beneficial to him, that does not mean it did not come without consequences. He would live in unperturbed peace for the rest of eternity, but his mother and father would not. He would stay a perfect portrait of his adolescence while his family would inch closer and closer towards their eventual time to bow. He would be rendered helpless as each member of his family faded into oblivion, until he himself is the only Na left.

Immortality comes at a cost. Does Jaemin want to attentively watch his family perish from a distance while he enjoys a life of longevity? Of course not. And while it is selfish, he does not want to die either. His mortal body is weak but his soul is passionate. He knows that somewhere within him life is waiting to bloom.

He is not ready to leave this world.

He wants to experience the beauty that he knows life had to offer. He wants to enjoy the rising of the shining morning sky, see the ore-gold beams cascade over the falling burgundy foliage, feel the chilling breeze of the shifting seasons kiss his exposed skin without an odd premonition that the cold would be his greatest rival, and know what it would be like for fondness to blossom and manifest him until his thoughts are consumed by one he knows he can love.

He cannot not do this while being buried six feet under.

“If I eat the ambrosia.. That will be it, then?” Jaemin questions, swallowing hard. His mind is racing. Whether that was due to the overwhelming feeling of the situation or his fever beginning to gnaw at whatever is left of him, he isn’t sure. “I’ll become a deity?”

“Essentially,” The messenger is patient with him. Jaemin is sure he has done this before, with the amount of poise he held while waiting for Jaemin’s reply. “Though I cannot promise that it will not hurt. Your body is already so far destroyed that the ambrosia may do more harm. Only initially, of course. This is the food of the gods. However, it will seal your immortality and with time, you will feel yourself become invigorated. Ichor will run through your veins, and you will be renewed. You will have to come with me, you cannot continue to live here with your mortal family.” He spares a fleeting look at Jaemin’s parents, a now apologizing consideration in his eyes. His mother was crumbling in the grasp of her husband, wailing inconsolably. This man might not have been the best at consoling, as all he offers is a shrug. “ _Sorry_.”

Jaemin’s eyes slowly slide over to his family. His mother and father, who had the uttermost love in their hearts for their son. They adored him enough to raise him to be kind and considerate even when death had been staring him directly in the face, teasing him with every year that passed. Him leaving would hurt, but him dying would ruin them. That alone gives him the answer he needs.

“I’ll take it.” His voice is firm and unwavering as he makes a choice that would bind him for life. There is no turning back now.

The way this man smiles at him gives Jaemin the inkling that he knew all along what choice he would eventually make. As if this man had the ability to peer into his mind and heart and recognize that even with the anxiety and uncertainty, Jaemin would choose immortality over sinking into death’s merciless claws.

The process after Jaemin had confirmed what he would do is significantly more simple that he’d assumed. The man politely asks Jaemin’s mother for a bowl to prepare the ambrosia in and she complies without complaint, wiping her tears away messily as she produced what was needed. “Perfect.” He croons as he very slowly siphons a small quantity into the bowl before he passes it to Jaemin. “Hold this carefully.”

With the uttermost caution Jaemin cups the cool metal, running the pads of his fingertips across the engraving on the side. This is the most expensive and fine bowl they had in the the whole house. Jaemin knew his mother only plucked it out for important occasions. The round, deep basin only feels that much more special as he watches the shining golden liquid swirl in the bowl. The ambrosia is incredibly fragrant, the sickly sweet smell wafting to his nostrils as he inhales the perfume-like drink. The liquid is the hue of the most beautiful honeycomb flower, glistening even in the dim lit bedroom. The consistency is just about that of honey, Jaemin thinks. Perhaps just a bit thinner.

All he had to do is take a sip, and he would finally be rid of the agony he had gone through for the last eighteen years. The moments before his life changed for the better are ones that would forever be permanently fixed in his mind. He’ll remember the weary glance he shoots the messenger, and the forced smiles his parents had across their lips. In those seconds, he knows what they were thinking— _we are losing our son, either way_.

With an unstable breath, he ceremoniously lifts the basin to his lips, tipping it back as the liquid slides down his throat with ease. It stings more than Jaemin had ever anticipated, and his feeble hands clutch at his sheets. His body trembles with every cough that shook his devastatingly weak self.

He cannot remember for how long he laid in that bed, crying out at the torment that attacks him from the inside out. Eventually, it subsides, and Jaemin’s body begins to regulate itself, his breathing no longer labored. His throat is not scratchy from his piercing screams, nor does his stomach curdle with involuntary contractions. Even his fingertips feel stronger, not at all brittle and calloused. The pale skin that he had become accustomed to when his sickness had spiraled was now a distant memory of the past as he glows, the aura around him shimmering.

“Na Jaemin,” announces the man after a period of observing Jaemin curiously. His arms were raised victoriously in his direction. His eyes were blazing in the most fierce of ways, and it gave Jaemin chills. “Welcome to immortality.”

✿❁❀✿❀❁

Leaving is the hardest part. The messenger, who he learns is not a messenger at all but actually the god of nature, Nakamoto Yuta, only offers him a limited amount of time to bid goodbye. The family begs for leniency, but Yuta is insistent—an hour, at most. He vanishes into the darkening night sky, vowing to return to claim Jaemin once the first star began its dance across the sky’s expanse. That does not leave much time, so the three hurried their messages to each other, embracing as if it was the last.

Jaemin will never forget what his mom told him, before Yuta mysteriously reappears at their doorstep: “Do not ever forget, Na Jaemin, you were woven together with the sun’s most beautiful beams. They may no longer entangle you in their fiery hold, but you were born to set this world ablaze with your light.”

✿❁❀✿❀❁

While Yuta brought Jaemin to where he would be permanently residing, the boy attempts to conjure up reasons to how this day could have come about. This morning he was laying on his deathbed, by midday the god of spring had offered him the highly sought after drink of immortality, and by midnight he was a deity. To Jaemin, none of this truly adds up. Go figure.

This has been common school knowledge for Jaemin. Ambrosia was strictly one of two of the godly foods, the other being the sugary sweet secretion known as nectar, of course. Non-immortals simply did not consume either, unless they did not fear their imminent death. The only situations where Jaemin could remember mortals having a taste of the heavenly foods were: (1) if someone had died wrongly and the effects of the ambrosia could work to bring them back to life, (2) if a hero had fallen in combat and or had done an action a god felt was worthy to become an immortal, (3) for any minuscule reason a god wanted to make someone a deity—a mortal who they had fallen in love with was usually the textbook case.

Jaemin is none of these things, really. He had not fought valiantly for an empire, nor had he fallen in love with a godly being. He is just Na Jaemin, a human with a terminal illness. He asks Yuta this. “Just why was I given this opportunity? What did I do to deserve this?”

Yuta finds the question laughable, an amused glint in his eyes as he glances at Jaemin. “Na Jaemin, do you really care why you’re now a deity? Is the reason important?”

Well. Jaemin considers that among other things he wanted to know, he guesses this is not too pressing. He wants to know if he would have a patron city, if he’d meet the big deities, would he eventually get a shrine and followers entirely dedicated to him? “A cult, or something like that?”

Yuta raises his eyebrows. Jaemin was a curious boy, so interested in the world surrounding him after being sheltered for so long. One becomes fascinated with the most simple things after not quite living for eighteen years. Walking on the ledge of death that does that to a person. “Have you thought of this often? Or did you all come up with this right now?”

“Hm.. All of it right now. Trust me, when I was sick in bed, I rarely thought about becoming immortal. This was a total shock to me.” Jaemin had just wanted to live, he did not desire anything else more except being able to watch the sun set and rise for years to come. Luckily, Jaemin thinks this’ll be possible.

Yuta informs him that they have arrived, and Jaemin is surprised to see a cozy cottage not much bigger than his own. As they walk the small distance inside, Yuta turns to him, guessing it would be beneficial to explain the way this would work now. “Among other things, I am the god of the nature and vegetation. I told you this, yes?” Jaemin nods. “I live here along with other gods of similar talents: Qian Kun, god of the harvest and Kim Jungwoo, god of the plants. Additionally, we have a young flower nymph whom Kun has taken under his wing, his name is Zhong Chenle. You will be working with us for the rest of eternity, so if I were you I would get used to this arrangement.”

“What will I be the god of, Yuta?” His tone of voice is cautious, each word pronounced with the uttermost amount of politeness. He did not want to sound too eager, or impolite. Nakamoto Yuta was a god, and the last thing he wanted to do was upset an immortal.

“A lovely question, Jaemin. You have been decided to be the god of spring growth. Since you were born under the August sun and the annual return of the fall that lead to winter was what caused you to be so ill, the general consensus would be that you would have nothing to do directly with the aforementioned seasons.” This reasoning makes absolute sense. “We saw your heart, it was a factor in our choice to offer you immortality. You are filled with compassion, and spring is the perfect season for you to be involved with. You will be the seed of the fruits of the field, Na Jaemin.” Yuta sighs, exasperated. He seems to have reached the quota of speaking for the day. “You ask too many questions, no more until tomorrow. Let’s go introduce you to everyone, they have been anticipating you.”

Yuta throws open the door, and Jaemin is surprised to see three figures leaning against the entrance. He observes the three of them with a fascinated gleam in his eyes and a hopeful optimism in his heart. Each has a certain sweet-tempered disposition as they offer beaming smiles at the new recruit. Leading the two was perhaps the young nymph Yuta had mentioned earlier, with his childish grin and lavender hair. He looked just about the age of Jaemin, if not a year or two younger. Beside him is boy just about the age of Yuta, not too tall with a vibrant shade of orange that colored the locks of his hair. Lastly, behind him both of them was a boy that stood at just about average height. Something about him held a paternal air, with his gentle smile and kind eyes. Even with his position in the back, he radiates the firm presence of a leader.

“We were not eavesdropping, absolutely not!” claims the young boy, leaning his body against the dorm frame casually.

“You’re not lying, Chenle? Are you sure?” Yuta questions, bending the slightest bit. Jaemin figures it would be easy to lie to him, however the Yuta’s tone contained an amazing amount of conviction. And with the way his eyes were dynamically staring into the boy’s, _Chenle’s_ , Jaemin reconsiders his stance on being untruthful.

So does Chenle, so it seems. He begins answering Yuta by shaking his head vehemently, but when the elder raised an eyebrow doubtfully in a way that almost said _‘really?’_ , the shaking of the head gradually slowed. Chenle’s posture slacks, and the persuasive look he thought he had upon his face drops. “I cannot lie to him,” His voice quivers as he moves towards the back, mumbling cogent apologies as he pushes the oldest boy to the front. “sorry, Kun.”

Kun does not seem the slightest bit angry with Chenle, however. It appears to be quite the opposite as the man’s smile only widens, ruffling the boy’s lavender locks adoringly. He steps forward willingly, now inches away from both Jaemin and Yuta. “Kids these days, always throwing you under—am I right?” The color of his voice was mellow, only barely informal, yet managed to possess a slight air of humor. “I was excited! We haven’t gotten anybody new since Chenle, and he’s a pain in my—”

“No cursing!” chimes the tangerine haired boy warningly. He is the first one to move towards Jaemin. His demeanor is full of kindness, but the glint in his eyes held barely noticeable undertones of mischievousness. Something about this boy in particular is easing to him, and Jaemin feels like they are going to be good friends. “Hi, you’re Jaemin, right?” It was rhetorical, more the beginning of an introduction than a formal question. “I’m Kim Jungwoo, god of plants. Well, technically I’m the god that causes plants to bloom, but that title would be a mouthful,” He points to lavender haired boy, then the elder one in front. “That’s Zhong Chenle, our cute but very loud nymph,” Cue Chenle’s ear piercing whining. Jaemin suddenly giggles, understanding just why the boy was labeled as loud. “and last, but not least, this is Qian Kun, god of the harvest.”

This is all very overwhelming for Jaemin, standing in the presence of such divine figures. It had not been long but he was unable to wrap his head that he is now an addition to this sanctified class of existing beings. He wonders if he will ever quite feel apart of this inner heavenly circle. Perhaps with time he will adjust and eventually feel worth. It had not even been a full day, Jaemin reminds himself. He is not sure whether to introduce himself with the high regard of a newly transformed deity, or as a mortal. He reverts to a more formal greeting. “Hello, it’s very nice to meet you all. I’m Na Jaemin.”

“..Newly made god of spring growth.” finishes Yuta, proudly appreciating the title Jaemin seem to did not add to his introduction. He assumes Yuta must be satisfied with having a part in transposing a denigrate mortal into some sublime immortal being.

“Well!” Kun claps his hands together in a way that seems to bring closure to the conversation. “Let’s go inside and let Jaemin rest. He may be immortal but I am sure he still has mortal impulses. He should rest, he’s come a long way.”

“Literally,” emphasizes Yuta, his hand light on the curve of Jaemin’s shoulder as he nudges the boy further into the warmth of the abode. “we have all of eternity to discuss this.”

There was not much to say afterwards, as everyone began to retreat to their own rooms with a good night’s rest on their minds. Chenle’s aforementioned adolescent energy decreased with celerity, and his lithe body fell abruptly onto the couch in the lounging room. Yuta and Kun share a room, so the two humbly retired upstairs.

However not before Kun turns to him halfway up the staircase. “You’ll be sharing a room with Jungwoo,” He informs plainly. “We think you two will match well.”

Which was how Na Jaemin finds himself following a soft voiced Kim Jungwoo to one of the bedrooms on the upper floor. The house is more spacious than it initially appears, Jaemin surveys as he weaves up the stairs and past the closed bedroom doors. “This is our room.” says Jungwoo, pushing the door at the end of the hall just wide enough for the two of them to enter. Jaemin is not sure what to expect, but as he steps further into the room he feels a strong enveloping of comfort entwine tightly around his body. It's an odd feeling, and Jaemin isn't quite sure how to explain it. 

The room was painted a color just akin to that of cream, complete with forest green trimmings for a slight pop. Beautiful botanical pieces were the room’s pinnacle, decorating every free area of space. Jaemin’s eyes glint with splendor as he immersed himself in the allure of the floral domination in between the four walls he could call his on. From the heart shaped lavender lilacs to the tightly coiled honeycomb dahlias dyed the color of a flush, flickering flame. Jungwoo observes Jaemin, relieved that the boy was not appalled by all the flower arrangements—if anything, he seemed delighted.

On the side of the room freshly tidied for Jaemin, a cheerful set of daisies hover just over the pillow of his bed. Jaemin holds the stems between his fingers with the uttermost caution, admiring the variety’s vibrant fuchsia and the innocence of the off white. He spins to face Jungwoo. “All of this.. Jungwoo, it’s beautiful! Did you do this all yourself?”

Jungwoo aims to shut the door so the noise from the two boys did not seep into the other rooms. He was aware of how much Yuta detested his sleep being interrupted, and how desperately Kun’s body craved the luxurious release that only slumber could bring. He proceeds to plop down onto his own bed, admittedly a bit tired himself. “Of course I did,” Jungwoo allows a bright, boisterous laughter pass his pink, pillowy lips. “Jaemin, I’m the god of flowers, these bloom whenever I will them to. I close my eyes and they invade my dreams, twirling and looping their stems over every inch of my being until my body awakens and I just have to grow some.”

“That isn’t.. scary?”

“At first? Yes,” Jungwoo greatly feels that Jaemin deserves the wholehearted truth at this beginning stage. Jungwoo received absolutely nothing from lying to the boy, and for Jaemin to assimilate into the role he was suddenly thrust into, it might be easier if he knew the accounts from those who had gone through the same experience. “It wasn’t easy just waking up one day and having the ability to make flowers blossom. I did not want it at first, Jaemin. I was like you, a soul dancing on the outskirts of death. My story is a lot more complicated, though, one day, I’ll tell you. However, I grew accustomed to my skills. The flowers are now a part of me, I cannot see myself without them. I eagerly wait for every spring to roll around, so I can fill the land with these beautiful plants. It’s my favorite part of the year, and I’m sure that soon enough it will be yours as well.”

Jaemin takes in Jungwoo’s words bit by bit. It is a lot to hear all at once, but he feels better afterwards. Neither of them saying anything more, Jungwoo offers Jaemin a friendly smile before he leans over to blow out the candle. The sole illumination of the room now gone, darkness is all that Jaemin could acknowledge. If he had known it would be this dark, he would have kindly asked Jungwoo to not blow out the light. The dark causes his weary body to now grow restless. However, he is so drained from the day’s events that he eventually drifts to sleep with much disquietude. His limbs turning aimlessly under the blanket.

He writhes in bed, unable to escape the feeling that the darkness was consuming him from the inside out. It all feels so utterly real, the pain and fear. It only hits the zenith when he could just make out a blurry figure casually lounging in his dream, clothes in a plush black clad robe. He does not draw closer to Jaemin, rather keeping himself a great distance away, like the figure himself was scared, or perhaps he could sense Jaemin’s unwillingness. Mustering the courage to—he was no longer a mere mortal, he was a _god_ , what did he have to fear any longer—Jaemin calls into the dark abyss, his voice echoing hollowly through oblivion that he could see no end for miles.

_“Who are you?”_

Jaemin wakes up screaming.

Kun, Yuta, and Jungwoo all surround him, assembled in a semicircle around Jaemin’s bed. He sits up with a sudden jerk, the blood rushing to his brain with his swift movements. His palm sorely rubs over his forehead, genuinely shocked at how heated his skin was to the touch. The three peer at him with concern, but also a certain quality of curiosity that Jaemin could not quite name.

Kun’s eyes flicker with uncertainty upon a free space on the bed then back up to the boy with the labored breathing and haunted gaze. “Can I?” Mind exceptionally cloudy, it takes him a second to understand that Kun was referring to sitting on the bed. Jaemin, his body not having enough energy, nods wearily as the elder takes a seat beside him. “You had a bad dream, didn’t you?” ( _“A nightmare.” Yuta corrects from the right side of Kun._ )

“I’m not.. even sure what that was exactly. It was a dream, sure, but it all felt too real. You know those dreams where you feel like you’re falling, but you aren’t?” The three exchange looks amongst themselves, their faces blank. Silly Jaemin, he reminds himself that they are gods, what would they know of dreams mortals had, dreams where their bodies felt as light as a feather as they drifted through the sky. “Bad example— _anyway_ , it’s a terrible feeling. There was just darkness everywhere, and I was screaming, but it was like nobody could hear me. Until..”

Yuta leans forward, immersed by Jaemin’s recount of his simple yet horror filled dream. “..Until?”

Jaemin’s mind is fuzzy as he sorts through his memories, attempting to gather any fact regarding the black clad figure from his dreams. When his eyes flutter closed, the image flashes briefly in his mind—his hand outstretched, his velveteen robe far too big for his lithe figure. He seemed to know Jaemin, but Jaemin did not know him. “This boy was there. He was all in black, and his hands were stretched towards me, kind of like.. Like he wanted me to come with him. I woke up when I asked who he was.”

There is no response from Kun, nor Jungwoo or Yuta. The silence discomforts Jaemin enough to make him feel rattled. He shifts under his blanket, throwing it off and reveling in the cool air that encircles his seemingly burning flesh. While doing so, he glances from boy to boy, prodding them each gently with his gaze. He receives nothing, aside from how unsettled Kun looks. He seems pensive, turning over every considered thought in his mind repeatedly. Kun knew something, Jaemin was certain.

“Kun, do you know something? Anything?”

At Jaemin’s question, Kun intends to end the conversation with a curt nod of his head. However, it only takes a second for him to reconsider and inhale sharply. “Jaemin, what you experienced.. I think it occurred because you were only minutes away from death when Yuta showed at your house.” Yuta, Jungwoo, and Jaemin all seem puzzled. With a embittering sigh, Kun proceeds to explain further. “When someone like you, who was deathly ill, is about to die, those in the underworld begin to stir. They know when another soul is about to descend. However you are one of the special cases. You escaped and slipped past death because of the choice you made. I think that perhaps, who you saw in your dream is the king of the underworld, calling you to him.”

“I can’t go, right? I’m immortal now.” Dread fills Jaemin to the brim at the mere thought of the underworld. Truthfully, there was nothing to feel a considerable amount of fear about regarding the location. Jaemin had always been taught to be frightful of the underworld if one had tattered morals, or committed heinous crimes. As long as Jaemin did not do anything reprehensible, he would get transported to Asphodel Meadows—where souls who did not execute any corrupt acts went—or if he was truly lucky, Elysium—where the especially distinguished were allowed to live, those who proved themselves through living virtuous lives. Despite all that he knows, he cannot not help but feel a tiny rush of terror.

“Of course not, Jaemin. You will stay right here with us, for as long as you would like to be here. We would never send you to the underworld, that is not where you belong. You belong here, with us.” Kun’s composed smile and steady tone causes Jaemin’s breathing to stabilize, and tranquility to drift through him.

Jaemin belongs somewhere. That in itself brings a limitless amount of joy to him, even with how simple the words truly were. Essentially his whole life he had been confined to the jail that was, unusually enough, his bed. He was forced to isolate himself from the rest of the world from the time the sickness began to develop deep within him, underneath his mortal flesh.

Before that, he had friends for miles with his good-humored personality and charming looks. However after, he did not have the delight in having associates any longer. People wondered about him, of course, stopping by his house and bashfully asking for Na Jaemin, the boy with both the heart and smile of gold. They were given the same, sad response every time, that he just could not see anyone. He no longer had anyone to spend the time with except the suspended glorious star that he gazed up at for the duration of his days, his arms bringing his knees up to his chest. But now, he did not need to depend on the shining sun for company, for now he had it for himself—and it came in the form of four immortal beings.

Jaemin would make his second life worth all the turmoil. He’d swear on it.

**Author's Note:**

> If you reached this far, because this was A LOT: comments, kudos, even light criticisms are accepted and ENCOURAGED! Comments and kudos make me SUPER SUPER SUPER HAPPY. If you really liked it, let me know on Twitter @ncthusiasts (that would make me, again, SUPER happy) or even send a CC https://curiouscat.me/yutasmtown Until next time! ｖ(⌒ｏ⌒)ｖ


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